Twisted
by MonsieurMadeleine
Summary: Erik ' s thoughts now that Christine has gone.


A/N: Hi, my name is Aby. I can't fic to save my life but here we are.

I tried to write something from Erik's POV at the end of the final lair, hope you enjoy it :)

Massive shout out to Lieyle (rosesandmusicsheets) for all the help she gave me, especially with my run on sentences! You my friend are awesome!

Feel free to leave any feedback you like, even if it is something along the lines of "this should be burnt, please never write again"

Thanks

He shuts his eyes. Her face swims before him. Painfully his mind reconstructs her features in excruciating detail to resemble her exactly as he had last seen her. Eyes full of fear and confusion, the lingering look of pity, and something he doesn't quite understand. Framed on any other face the dilated pupils and subtle mimicry of his own, horrific, visage would be… adoration? But it couldn't be! That was only ever felt toward other _people_. Not him, never him! He was a loathsome decrepit monster in appearance, and demeanor judging by the past day, not a creature to be accepted let alone liked... desired! He must have altered her face somehow, corrupted her expression to fit his own twisted fantasies.

Was this to be his punishment? That every time he closed his eyes he would conjure her perfect likeness, every detail exact and true to life, save that twisted expression of infatuation. Of course it would. No torture could be more fitting, to have him see that face, the countenance that served as his muse, inspiring soaring concertos, alluring fantasias, haunting ballads, and everything in between. Christine, his idol, the person to whom his very soul was bound, who held his chance at redemption, freedom, and acceptance in her porcelain hands. The one person whose rejection he'd fought so hard not to face. The person whom he had kept all this from so as to avoid the crushing weight of her disapproval. The person whose life, joy, and happiness he had carelessly destroyed through deceit. The person whose hopes had been suffocated within the clutches of his own grasping, impossible dreams. The person whose memory even now set him aflame; mind, body, and soul.

His Christine.

Ah, but not. Not _his_ Christine. He had told them to leave, screamed at them until they had been forced to flee, all so she could have the life she deserved. And him... that _boy_. In doing so he knew he had received some form of divine justice, the pain he certainly deserved for the uprooting of her life. The pain he had felt all his wretched life, amplified a hundred fold by the closeness of her abandonment and his own traitorous mind.

Being forced to look upon the face of the one he worshiped and revered, but also the one who had torn his heart asunder. Being forced to remember just how monstrous he was and always would be in the eyes of everyone. Being forced to remember that it was not in his face, but in his mind and soul that the true distortion lay. Being made to look upon this twisted perversion of his mind where her feelings were tinged by love. Having to see what he knew he could never have. What he knew he had thrown away at every opportunity, seemingly with both hands.

Yes, this would be the cruelest and most fitting of punishments, but no less than he deserved.

Suddenly he felt something pressed into his palm, the familiar bite of cold metal leeching what little warmth his body still held. Reflexively his eyes flew open only to be shocked to find her gazing into his very soul. She could no longer be twisted by his cruel mind. He searched her face and tried to prepare himself for the hurt and pain in her eyes. Strangely though she still bore all the sentiments he had seen before; there was the pain, fear, and confusion… but also… the adoration? It must be a trick, it _must_. He could not bare the thought of it being real. And so he stood there, silent and stock still, trying to find the hint of deception in her stormy blue eyes.

But there was none to be found.

If what he saw was true... she loved him.

Even if he couldn't trust his eyes, she at least cared enough to brave the monster's lair once more to return his ring.

It was all too much for him to bare. The tidal wave of remorse that had been building over the years finally crested, crashing into him with an impact so strong he felt himself buckle beneath it. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pitching wildly in the stormy blue of her eyes. He sank to his knees at her feet as great wrenching sobs burst forth from his crumpled form, hot tears running over his face.

"Christine, I love you..."


End file.
